


==>Sollux: Derive weird enjoyment from bodily fuckups.

by prurientInterests (amberite)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Allergies, Edging, Masturbation, Messy, Omorashi, Other, Sneezing, Sneezing Kink, Solo Kink, bladder desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberite/pseuds/prurientInterests
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Tumblrfic I'm just now getting around to uploading here.</p><p>Lactoria's prompt...ish... thing: <em>Sollux deliberately holding in his sneezes with a full bladder. Sollux massaging the bridge of his nose while sitting at his computer, clutching one of his bulges, and looking directly into bright light to stimulate the sneeze and feel himself contract when he lets it go... only to do it again. Karkat being appalled<sup>1</sup> when he finds Sollux does any of these things, and out of sheer horny boredom.</em></p><p>Or: the problem with bees is they track in pollen. The problem with pollen is it causes Sollux a biological nuisance. The problem with biological nuisances<sup>2</sup> is that Sollux gets off on them. (While coding, naturally. When else would you have a wank?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	==>Sollux: Derive weird enjoyment from bodily fuckups.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lactoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lactoria/gifts).



Serves you right for being up during the day; you don’t even know what it is that you’re allergic to, but it doesn’t bloom at night. Or maybe it’s just that this is when your mainframe bees go out through the vent system for nourishment and track flower pollen back into your hive. Maybe a bit of both. Earlier you kept sneezing occasionally, but now your nose is just tingling. It’s fucking with you.

You breathe in and the tingle intensifies, sudden and sharp, and your chest shudders suddenly, an involuntary gasp of breath. But the sneeze backs off.

Your nose is tingling still. It’s doing this weird thing where it’s throbbing with your pulse, ticklish and crawly, and you resist the urge to rub at it. You’re trying to set up an installation task and get it running, and you won’t let yourself answer any of the little annoying biological alerts your body is throwing at you until the damn thing is running. The trouble is, it keeps coming back. By the time you set the task to run, your breathing’s gone all fluttery and you’re staring at the screen through tear-blurred eyes, and you _still_ haven’t sneezed.

Fuck this.

Other than the light of your computer screen, the block is mostly dim, but… you think you might be able to trigger your photic reflex directly, you’ve done it before by _accident_ … It takes a moment of concentration to control this the right way, you don’t want to overshoot the mark and give yourself a migraine, but all it takes is directing the visible-spectrum emanations of your eyes inward and then the relief is explosive. 

The sneeze makes your pelvic muscles clench all at once and you suddenly feel the weight and pressure of all the energy drinks you’ve been consuming, back to haunt you. The urge snuck up on you so gradually you hadn’t realized it was there, and it’s a near thing, keeping yourself from losing control. And suddenly this is kind of… suddenly this is really arousing. It doesn’t surprise you as much as it might. There are enough working components pressed together in a small space there that the sloshing of liquid _does_ something, squeezes your genetic ducts or something. The pressure is kind of painful, but the side effect is really good. 

You’re still about to get up and go relieve yourself when the process stops running and the command prompt blinks up at you. You have a ton of these routines lined up tonight, testing out something you coded last night, and you have to enter most of them manually, and it’s not like you’re going to stop right here. By the time you’ve typed the second one in and set it running, you’re squirming from the urge to urinate; your bulge is unsheathed in your boxers, one of the tendrils trying to jam itself into your nook. And your nose still itches, and it’s worse now because you’re not sure you want to test your bladder control against another one of those nerve-bomb sneezes. 

An idea occurs to you, somewhere between lazy fantasizing and the kind of pointless challenge you sometimes set yourself. It’s harder to piss when you’re aroused - you know a little bit about why from schoolfeeds, tissues becoming engorged with blood and swelling up - you could delay the reckoning by touching yourself. Yeah. You hike down the waist of your boxers and slouch down in the chair and wrap your hand around your top bulge. Not stroking, not really - just letting it twine and coil and inflate against your fingers. 

Your breath hitches again, frustratingly uncontrollable, and you reach up this time - the last time was just _too_ explosive, too sudden, you’re hoping you can sneeze a little more delicately, relieve the itch without losing control completely - as much as it helps to have a nice thick wiggly and the lips of your nook going moist, you _know_ you could still empty your bladder if you tried, or if you got a hard enough jolt to those muscles. You run a finger up and down the bridge of your nose, massage it harder, rhythmically. It’s almost like what you’d be doing to your double-pronged bulge if you gave in to that impulse. 

_Hhh…huhhhhh_. Not quite. You look out the corner of your eye at the spot where the curtain is imperfect and lets in a ray of sun, and rub frenetically. It’s touch and go for a moment, so to speak, and then your nose finally reacts. It’s slower than last time, more gradual, and you can sort of steer the way your body spasms. Your bulge squeezes at your fingers and your bladder gives a painful pang of overfullness and a tiny dribble of fluid escapes. 

Okay, that’s acceptable damages. It’s mostly getting on your boxers and not on the chair, and those are going to get recycled anyway. 

You still don’t feel like you’re done sneezing. And the command prompt is staring at you again. This time you’re typing using your psionics; your hands are busy. You’re uncomfortably aware that if anything, more bees are returning from their daily excursions, because the tickling, itching, _distracting_ feeling in your sinuses has kicked up a notch. You can rub your nose one way to hold the sneeze off or another way to coax it nearer, but leaving it alone is just torment. You massage your nostrils hard until you’re done typing in the commands, then pull your hand away and the tickle surges back with a vengeance, making your breath hitch and your eyes stream. 

It just takes a light touch to bring it on this time - heavy dragging breaths and then a deceptively tiny that-was-barely-a-sneeze sneeze that just makes you more desperate for relief, and your bladder feels like it’s going to burst, and you’re so aroused you could die. 

You breathe shallowly, flicking at your nose with your finger, and sneeze again, harder, more satisfying, and this one makes you rock in your chair and oh fuck, you’ve started letting it out for real, but it’s going slowly, at least, leaking in fits and starts, and you start rubbing at your bulges desperately to make the trickle recede. It works, just barely. You’re in this weird hazy state that’s part pleasure and part panic and you have to get out of this chair because if you touch your bulges any harder or faster you’ll come all over yourself and if you stop rubbing at it you’ll piss yourself and now both your hands are clamped over your junk as you limp out of your chair and sort of half-hop toward the ablution block.

You only make it as far as the kitchen before a squadron of large purple bees zoom past you on their daily errands and the cloud of pollen they leave behind - there’s no hope for you now. You’re taking frantic shuddery breaths not sure if you’re trying to sneeze or trying not to; it doesn’t seem to matter, it’s _going_ to happen, it just _does_ , and you sink down on the floor gracelessly. You let out a harsh, massive, powerful double sneeze, and then another, back to back, the kind that could wrench something, and your bladder hurts and then it doesn’t, and you’re soaking your boxer shorts in weird short fluttery spurts, still holding onto your bulges. At least there aren’t cables on the floor in here. This is not the dumbest thing you’ve done for an orgasm, nor the worst mess you’ve made in your hive, though it’s on the short list for both. 

Everything is slippery and kinda gross and tinged with an immense sense of relief, your bulges shuddering in your hand; you don’t think you’ve _ever_ managed to piss and come at the same time and it makes both things seem to go on forever and feel amazing. Your nook clenches around nothing and you push a finger in and cry out with the last blissful pulses of release and your head and groin both feel light and weird, all cleared out like the sky after a rainstorm. 

Your floor, however, could use some work.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I didn't get around to writing any parts with Karkat in, so you can pretend to be a terribly appalled Karkat, and/or write your own, if you want one.
> 
> 2) Well, it's sort of a problem in the general narrative sense; _I_ don't think it's a problem. (trollfaceproblem.jpg)


End file.
